Inequalities
by Decotex
Summary: Rosalind wants to make scientific history. Robert wants food-if he can only stop bleeding long enough to make some. The beginning of R&R's face to face relationship after Robert crosses over. Probably a few chapters about other fluffy stuff.
1. Chapter 1

"Mmph."

Rosalind, who hadn't gone to bed before 3 for two months and wasn't about to start now, looked up from her work.

"Oh good. You're awake."

Robert, who was fully conscious for the first time since he had crossed over three days prior, stood in the doorway of Rosalind's office. Well, _stood_ is a strong word. It implies stability. Robert appeared to be keeping himself upright through sheer force of will and probably, Rosalind suspected, heavy medication. He was wearing expensive silk clothing that didn't fit and his ginger hair looked like it was trying to escape.

"You are, ah . . . cognizant, Robert?"

He nodded slowly.

"Unfortunately so. Those side effects, quite poignant."

"Yes, I have a theory actually, relating to the effects of transdimensional travel on human perception. I tried to ask you about it with you two days ago but you halfway through you started bleeding and the nurse had to-"

"I know. I was there."

"Of course, of course," Rosalind said, excited despite of herself. Their firstreal face-to-face conversation in the same dimension. It was a scientific landmark.

"The hemorrhaging has stopped, I see. Do you think your mind has adjusted to this reality?"

He leaned against the door frame and looked around the room.

"Possibly. I woke up a while ago and when I didn't fall unconscious or start bleeding, or both, after a significant amount of time, I wandered around until I found you. Is this your house?"

She nodded.

"Nice, isn't it? There's a lot you can say about Comstock, but he certainly pays well. Now, first thing, Robert. We have the unique opportunity of being able to compare realities, which I suggest we do quickly before your symptoms catch up to you. May we begin with your life, starting from the very beginning?"

"Later, Rosalind. Right now, I am starving."

"That's not surprising. The nurse said you couldn't keep any food down."

"Oh, believe me, I know."

"Well, you're going to have to wait until morning. The cook arrives at 7, and the clock's just nearing two."

He blinked sleepily and reached back to scratch his head.

"You have a cook? Good lord. Also, having just barely survived transdimensional travel, I believe I'm entitled to breakfast whenever I bloody feel like it. And then and only then will we discuss dimensional inequalities." He crossed his arms with the finality of a man who has been bleeding for three days straight and is acutely aware of it.

Rosalind felt a flash of annoyance, which passed when she realized that she would have acted the same way. She sighed and stood up.

"If you're going to be so fractious about it," she said as she exited the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Squinting in the dark and using her hand against the wall as a guide, Rosalind made her way downstairs and into the kitchen. It was one of the rooms she only had because it came with the house. (Other rooms in this category include the powder room, the second and third sitting rooms, the drawing room, the dining room, and the laundry room.)

Rosalind walked up to the stove and stared.

After a moment, she turned and walked across the room. She picked up an egg carefully and held it between two delicate fingers. She walked back over to the stove and picked up a medium sized pan from it's hook.

She tapped the egg against the pan tentatively. Nothing happened. She peered closely at egg.

"No wonder you have a chef."

She turned quickly, still holding the pan in one hand and the egg in the other. Robert stood in the doorway, watching her. He still looked tired but slightly more alert.

"I don't cook," she said lamely, vaguely waving the pan around in the air.

Robert smiled and walked up to her. He pushed her out of the way gently, slipping the pan and egg from Rosalind's hands into his own.

"Number one."

"What?"

"Inequality number one."

He turned on the stove and cracked the egg into the pan with a flourish.

Rosalind pulled herself on to the counter and sat facing Robert.

Aside from the noise of the stove, the house was quiet. Rosalind lived alone. According to polite society, this made her an old maid, but after a golden statue of her was erected in Hyde Park, Rosalind considered herself exempt from societal judgment.

"You have a nice kitchen," said Robert finally, still cooking.

"Yes, apparently."

"I know you're dying to question me, Rosalind."

"I truly am."

"Have at it, then."

"Lovely. Parents?"

"Maryanne and Simon Lutece."

"Agreed. Siblings?"

"None. Well-."

"I don't count. Regardless, agreed. Wife?"

"No."

"Agreed. Well, no husband in my case. Unless you-"

"No."

"Ah." She examined her fingernails.

"Partners?"

There was a pause.

"Really, Rosalind? I didn't realize we were such a gossip."

"My interest, I assure you, is-"

"-purely scientific? Oh, obviously."

"For science, Robert."

He turned off the stove and looked around the kitchen.

"Where are your plates?"

"Ah, bottom left cabinet."

It was empty.

"Bottom right cabinet?"

"You have no idea, do you?"

"I have a chef."  
"And if he fell sick?"  
"I would hire another one."  
"Well aren't we the spoiled child."

"Aren't we just?"

Robert gave up looking and held the pan in one hand, using a knife to eat.

"Two."  
"What?"  
"Partners. Most recently two years ago. None currently."

"Interesting."

"And you?"  
She smiled and shrugged.

"Rosalind, that's not fair! I told you."

"Darling Robert, we've got to have _some _secrets. "


End file.
